Desperate Measures
by Hovahkiin
Summary: Derek is angry and Stiles makes him relax.


Being taken home in your boyfriend's Chevy Tahoe sounds romantic (not to mention luxurious), but when it's because your Jeep has been totaled by supernatural creatures, well... it's a bit of a stretch from "nice" and it's certainly not "romantic" by any means. Especially when the boyfriend in question is Derek Hale and has the disappointment in you that burns like a thousand suns through a magnifying glass on an ant. Stiles Stilinski is that ant, unfortunately. That burnt spot on the sidewalk? That's him. Or at least where he used to stand.

He sneaks a look over and sees Derek's tense jaw, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel that suggests that he's a mite ticked off. He can usually deal with his boyfriend when he's pissed over silly things (in Stiles's opinion, anyway), but not tonight. Stiles wonders for a brief moment if maybe, just maybe, he can persuade Derek into letting him apologize in any other way other than verbally, but... His brown eyes try on an innocent glimmer. "So, I didn't know that faeries could have shrunk my car."

Derek's answering growl, low and threatening, tells him all he needs to know. But, him being Stiles, he merely presses on. "I mean, seriously. Can you even blame me? When one of those little guys turns your wonderful vehicle into a _clown car_ you just don't expect it, okay?" Derek is silent, so he thinks he's making good progress in his defense, until he's opening his mouth and Derek is turning his head a fraction to glare at him with Alpha-red eyes. Any words he's about to say die in his throat, and Derek's eyes are back on the road.

"You could have gotten killed, Stiles." Derek's voice is low and rough, just like his growl from earlier, and Stiles sighs. "Yes, I'm AWARE," he says right back. "Living with werewolves isn't exactly something that ensures safety, you know?" Derek is stubbornly silent, and he assumes that this night is going to go down in flames unless he does something about it. Not that it was going anywhere really, unless Derek consented to make-up sex, which was probably highly unlikely at this point. Stiles reached over, eyes facing the road, trailing his fingers along the inside of the Derek's thigh, feeling the fabric of his jeans, worn with age and use.

He could feel the warning growl reverberate through Derek's system. "Stiles." The boy in question flashed a wicked smirk at his boyfriend, but Derek received an innocently arched brow as his lips straightened. "Yes?" Derek opened his mouth to say something, but it was cut off with a choking sound when his fingers brushed over the crotch of Derek's pants. A smug smile curved Stiles's mouth again. Derek managed to growl again, but it merged with a low groan. "Stop." The word, however, was slightly shaky, and the tone was not nearly as strong and commanding as it had been previously. Stiles grinned and decided to press his advantage, rubbing his palm roughly against that spot in Derek's pants.

His boyfriend shuddered, nails digging into the steering wheel slightly. Stiles unclasped his seatbelt with his free hand and leaned over so that he was turned sideways in the seat, on his knees and making quick work of the fly on Derek's pants. He paused for a moment, then smirked up at his lover. Derek was still tense, but more because of the sexual arousal than the anger from earlier. He was focused on the road, and Stiles figured he should keep it that way, so he went about his business, pulling his pants out of the way and pulling his half-hard penis from his boxers.

Derek made a small sound in his throat, something that sounded suspiciously close to a whine, but his eyes didn't waver on the asphalt. Tentatively, Stiles ran his tongue over the head, earning a low groan that would've been embarrassing if it weren't so damn hot. Stiles hadn't ever tried oral in this kind of situation before, but then again, there weren't many who really had. He began to lick stripes up from the base of Derek's cock, shuddering himself when he heard moans and groans that only encouraged him and the hardness beginning between his legs.

Stiles finally took him all in his mouth, sucking and hollowing his cheeks the best he could in a moving vehicle. His encouragement came in the form of Derek cradling his free hand around the base of his skull and the feeling of his fingers very delicately digging into his scalp. Not to mention this was all turning him on, too; Derek moaning was a rare sight... er, sound, either way it was a good opportunity to get himself off as well. Stiles swirled his tongue around the head, in the tip, tasting the precum that was flowing from Derek's dick. As he did so, he slipped his hand into his pants, grasping himself and stroking fast, trying to at least end this before they got to his house.

He was thrusting into his own hand and Derek was moving his hips, trying to get Stiles to swallow all of his cock, but it was just too much at one time and the feeling of Derek on his tongue and his fingers in his hair and the tingling in his balls and one last suck-

He had a feeling that Derek was trying to warn him, but then claws - actual _claws_! - dug into his scalp, as gently as possible, but still, it fucking hurt and there was cum filling his mouth (that he managed to choke down) and his underwear. Before he could react, Derek was turning the wheel very, _very _sharply with a yell, turning onto the side of the road, and Stiles was then tumbling off the seat into the small space usually used to put your feet in the passenger's seat. His head hit the dashboard as he went down, and he let out a dazed sound that elevated to a hurt whimper. "Derek, usually when someone gives you a blowjob, that is _not_ how you react," he says while crawling back onto the seat, feeling that the cum in his pants has already seeped into his boxers and jeans. Great.

Derek breathes out sharply and pulls him into a kiss, which is all teeth and tongue and lips at first, then it softens into a passionate kiss and Derek pulls away and starts burying his face into his neck. Stiles manages to blush, clearing his throat at the prickly sensation of Derek's stubble against his sensitive skin. "So, am I forgiven?" Stiles timidly asks, and Derek grunts. It's not a definitive answer, but it's a lucky day when he is given one, so the brunet sighs and shuts his eyes, leaning against Derek and enjoying the afterglow.

"No." The word catches Stiles off-guard, after they've been cuddling (and Derek and Stiles have buttoned themselves up again) for a few minutes and he opens his eyes again. Derek is staring at him. "Come again?" Stiles asks, honestly bewildered, then when Derek says "I don't forgive you" Stiles's spirits dampen again. It's a little bit disappointing, but Derek has more to say. "I'll never forgive you for putting yourself in danger constantly," he mutters, and Stiles sighs, opening his mouth to say something but Derek grabs his chin and shuts his mouth. Stiles blinks and doesn't try and fight it, accepting it for a moment while Derek searches for words. "You're very important to me," Derek finally says after a long pause. "I love you. But I hate that you're so... stupid."

Stiles lets his shoulders fall, rolling his eyes. "Thanks." Derek chuckles and rolls his eyes as Stiles continues. "I love you too, but you're stupid too, sour wolf." The werewolf shrugs and lets him go, leans back and buckles his seatbelt again (Stiles missed when he had slipped out of it). He glances expectantly at Stiles, who snaps a mock-salute and flops back against his seat and buckles his belt. Things have gotten more relaxed in the car, at least, and Derek is not looking like he's expecting the world to end at any moment. He smiles at him, slipping his hand over to rest between the seats. Derek's free hand eventually joins Stiles's there, and their fingers fit like missing puzzle pieces. The younger male shoots the other a triumphant grin and he leans back in his seat, satisfied.

Oh yeah. He's definitely won this round.


End file.
